Cure Me
by Open Casket Ceremony
Summary: Kurosaki Ichigo. Son of a prestigous doctor. Hitsugaya Toshiro. Adopted grandson of the daimyo. An unlikely pair, but hey, Ichigo's determined to make it work out, even if Hitsugaya isn't. AU IchiHitsu.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Yay, finally, a new fic. If you've looked at my profile recently, I suppose you knew this one was coming, but if you didn't, now you do! This one won't be as protagonist-antagonist as my last fics. Meaning, there won't really be much sense of good and evil. There will be drama, yes, but kidnappings and killings, not really. Maybe. We'll see. Also take note that it's an AU, set in a setting similar to Soul Society, except not really spiritual. Imagine feudal-era Japan. I got the idea from a Korean drama. Ha. Anyways, like all my other fics, this will consist of twenty chapters unless I decide otherwise to cut it short. Enjoy!  
Also, today is a very special day, September 3, 2008. You know what that means: the DVD release of _The DiamondDust Rebellion!_ Subs should be up soon for those of you who haven't seen it yet.

* * *

If there was one word to describe Kurosaki Ichigo's current mood, it was very simple.

Bored.

His father, Kurosaki Isshin, was well-known up and down the country as being probably the best doctor in the region. He saw all sorts of patients, from peasants to nobles and even the emperor himself.

Of course, being Isshin's son, Ichigo, too, trained to follow in his footsteps as the next hot-shot doctor of the country. He didn't dislike the practice, he just found it dull at times. Especially at times like these when he accompanied his father out to the residences of some wealthy paying patient to treat whatever the hell it was they complained of.

Last week, they'd visited a peasant farmer whose wife was ill with a sore throat. So, they recommended a three-times-a-day dose of hot lemon tea and were on their way.

Yesterday, their patient had complained of unsatisfactory sex. Ichigo hadn't bothered to find out what his father was prescribing to him since he was too wigged out to stick around.

And today, they were due to see a daimyo.

Visiting people of such rank was no big deal to Ichigo. In fact, the bigwigs sometimes had to compete for his father's attention.

So, now he was sitting in a chair in the corner of this elderly, white-bearded daimyo's bedroom, looking absently out the window, trying to fight off the urge to fall asleep as his father spoke with the old geezer.

"Sore back, you say, Yamamoto-san?" Isshin was saying, "It's an age problem, not much to worry about. You see, I have this excellent herbal therapy you may want to try…"

There was a bird at the windowsill.

Ichigo stared at it.

The bird stared back.

The orange-haired teen scowled.

The bird flew away.

"Ichigo!"

"Huh!?" Snapping out of his half-asleep daze, the young man sat up in the chair and looked upwards. "Yeah?"

"Lazy son of mine," Isshin chuckled good-naturedly to the patient, this old Yamamoto guy, apparently. "He wants to study medicine from me, but he's just so air-headed."

"Is that so?" Yamamoto answered, "Your son seems to be growing into a fine young man to me. I have a grandson…an adopted grandson. My heir. He's not much younger than your son, I'd imagine."

"Perhaps they should meet, then," Isshin replied casually.

"Perhaps," the elderly daimyo agreed, "But my grandson, he's a strange one. That boy is always so cold to others. Dutiful, yes, but I'm afraid he has no friends because he refuses to make any…"

Getting tired of this seemingly meaningless conversation, Ichigo stood up. "I need to go to the bathroom," he announced, "I'll be right back." After waiting for his father's nod of approval, he instantly darted out of the room.

Truth be told, his bladder was practically empty. He just needed to stretch his legs and walk around a bit to kill his boredom.

Humming an absent-minded tune he had made up on the spot, he wandered aimlessly down the hallway. Something smelled good, he thought, maybe someone was making lunch. He was now aware of how hungry he was, and despite himself, he found himself wandering towards the source of the smell – steaming rice.

It didn't take much longer for him to find the kitchen. The nose knows, as some people say. It was intrusive, but who cares, he thought as he took hold of the door and slid it open.

The strawberry blinked, peering inside to see a petite boy with his back turned to him in a plain black kimono at work, which contrasted sharply with his tufty, snow-white hair. The boy was very slender, Ichigo noted, with an exceptional figure…in a girlish way. He knew girls who would kill to have a waist and hips like that boy did. He had a dirty apron fastened around that dainty waist, and Ichigo was quick to assume he was a servant.

"Um, excuse me-"

At the sound of his voice, the boy turned to look at him, and Ichigo swallowed hard. This kid was very pretty, he thought, with large, almond-shaped eyes that resembled frozen emeralds and rosy, child-like cheeks.

"Y-You must be the maid. I mean, uh, the servant," Ichigo spoke lamely, fumbling over his words.

The boy studied him for a moment, the set of pretty eyes narrowing.

Ichigo gulped. Something told him he had said the wrong thing.

"You're mistaken," the boy answered in a curt, icy voice full of contempt, "I'm the daimyo's grandson."

_Oh, shit_.

The silence was almost painful enough to feel as the boy pointed at the doorway. "Get out," he demanded, "You have no manners, intruding on my work like that and having the _nerve_ to insult me."

"I didn't mean to offend you," Ichigo spluttered, "It's just that…I didn't know who you were. I mean, uh, nobles usually wear nicer clothes, right? And don't usually do this kind of work, do they?"

"Well, _I_ do," the boy shot back, "I do all the work in this place. Are you satisfied yet? Now get out."

"Wait a second-"

"I said, _get out_."

"I will, I will, relax," the mortified strawberry replied frantically, "But can I have your name first?"

"Why do you want my name?"

"Uh…I don't know," Ichigo admitted lamely, "I just want to know, that's all."

There was a pause before the boy straightened up and finally announced in a haughty manner, "Hitsugaya Toshiro. And who are you?"

"Kurosaki Ichigo," he answered, "Toshiro, huh? That's a pretty name," he mused. "It suits you." The glare he received told him that changing the subject would be wise. "Uh, my dad's a doctor. He's seeing your grandfather right now, I think."

"So you are studying under your father?" the boy, who called himself Hitsugaya inquired, seeming a little more interested, rather than being eager to kick him out of the kitchen.

"Yeah," Ichigo nodded, eager to make conversation with this pretty stranger, "I'm going to be a doctor, too, I guess."

"That must be nice," Hitsugaya responded. "I'd like to study medicine myself as well, but my grandfather would never permit it."

"Why not?"

"Because," the boy sighed, "According to him, a proper noble does not study anything aside from politics…and even that he won't permit me to pursue."

"Well, that sucks," Ichigo stated bluntly, instantly regretting using such crass tongue in front of the daimyo's grandson, of all people. "So, what _does_ he want you to do?"

"A housekeeper," was Hitsugaya's simple reply, "I _am_ his heir, but he claims that I do not have the right personality," he continued, rather bitterly, "He says I am cold and insensitive, and I will not treat other daimyo with respect and lose the property. I am to marry a man who is 'more suitable' than I am, and in preparation, I do the housework to get used to the life I suppose I will be having in the future. He will manage the land, and I will be…no better than his servant, for lack of a better word."

There was another awkward silence before Ichigo laughed nervously, trying to loosen the tension. "Well, whoever that guy is will be really lucky."

Hitsugaya did not appear impressed.

"Are you done interrogating me?" he demanded, the haughty air re-establishing itself, "If you are, then please leave. I have work to finish."

"Uh, yeah. Sorry. And, uh…sorry about your housekeeper-ness."

His stomach feeling a tad strange, Ichigo hurriedly rushed out of the kitchen, leaving Hitsugaya to go back to his kitchen work.

* * *

Author's Note: So, how was it? I need your feeback, so please leave some comments! And don't forget to watch _The DiamondDust Rebellion_!


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Yay, chapter two! Now then, you're probably wondering, "What the hell happened to _Shattered Ice_?" Don't worry, I'll be updating that soon and wrapping it up. In the meantime, enjoy this next installment.

* * *

"So, did you give the old man his medicine?" Ichigo asked his father casually. It had been a day already since they had been to the Yamamoto manor and since he had met the strange, rather cold, but undeniably pretty Hitsugaya Toshiro.

It was weird, Ichigo thought, of how he couldn't get the daimyo's grandson out of his mind. It bugged him immensely, but he didn't mind too much, for some reason.

"He's the daimyo, you know," Isshin answered, without looking up from a stack of medical bills he was going through, "Perhaps you should address him in a more respectful way."

"Who cares? It's not like he's listening," Ichigo snorted.

"Speaking of which," his father mused, "When I was speaking with Yamamoto-san, he mentioned his grandson. It appears he wants to marry the kid off as soon as possible so their property will be all set to be well-taken care of. He doesn't think he's going to live much longer himself and wants to ensure that his heir gets a proper future."

"I met him yesterday," the orange-haired teen added, "The kid. His grandson."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. His name's Toshiro."

"How's he like?"

"Eh, he's alright," Ichigo answered with a shrug. "He's a little on the rude side, though. I guess he has a pretty face, but still, his personality is horrible. They're going to have a hard time finding him a husband who could tolerate him," he snorted, "I don't think anyone would want to marry someone like that."

"I think you would," Isshin teased, "The way you're going on and on about this 'Toshiro' kid…one would think you _like_ him."

"Don't be stupid, Dad," was the retort, "He's a noble, and well…no offense or anything, but I'm just a doctor's son. We don't mix with those people except for business."

"Say what you will, Ichigo. Anyway," Isshin continued, holding out a sheet of paper and a handful of money towards his orange-haired son, "I need you to go to the market and get me these herbs for making medicine with. I'm running low on them."

"Yeah, yeah," Ichigo answered, taking the list. "I'll be back soon, so don't even think about starting dinner without me, okay?"

With that said, he headed out the door, walking briskly in the direction of the market, pulling his kimono tightly around himself to keep away the crisp autumn chill.

Winter was drawing near, he thought. Winter always meant good business, because people got colds and the flu all the time. That would mean stocking up on more herbs.

It didn't take him long at all to arrive. The market was a bustling place, not only a place of economic activity, but also of social activity. All sorts of people screaming out for the wandering crowds buy their goods. Children laughing and running around and begging their mothers to buy them this and that. Housewives chattering amongst each other, fishermen discussing the day's catch. That sort of thing.

Intent on finishing his assigned task quickly, Ichigo headed straight to the vendors he needed. He'd been on herb-shopping missions plenty of times, although it was usually one of his little sisters that was sent to do it. Nonetheless, he knew what was cheapest and who sold the best wares, and so on and so forth by this point.

He reached outwards to a stall, grabbing a clump of dried herbs that reeked a foul stench, thrusting the necessary amount of money forward before moving onto the next item on the list.

It was then that he became aware of a loud conversation going on nearby. The more he listened, the more he realized it wasn't an ordinary conversation – it was quite a heated argument.

It seemed to be between a vegetable vendor and a petite boy…an awfully familiar boy.

"Toshiro?" Ichigo murmured to himself, "What's he gotten himself into?"

"Ten-hundred yen for these and that's my final offer, boy!"

"That's ridiculous! You think you can trick me out of my money because I am a child!? I'm not paying more than five-hundred yen. That's all your lousy leeks are worth!"

"How dare you, you little brat!" the vegetable vendor shouted angrily.

"How dare _you_ address me like that!? My grandfather, the daimyo, will _not_ be pleased when he finds out about your impudence!" Hitsugaya retorted indignantly.

"You don't like it, rich boy!? Then fine, grow your own leeks! If you even _can_, you spoiled, good for nothing, filthy rich little _whore_!"

There was a deathly silence, and Hitsugaya opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came past his dainty lips.

"You…You filthy peasant!" he finally spat, "The _nerve_ of you, speaking of me with your coarse tongue!"

Now, the vendor looked pretty pissed off, and this was obvious as he raised his hand to strike the small, white-haired boy across the face, and Ichigo made a spur-of-the-moment decision to interject.

"Hey, come on," he interrupted, catching the vendor's hand and stepping between the two before any physical harm could occur to the daimyo's diminutive grandson. "Don't pick on the kid, okay? He doesn't know any better. Here." He thrust out ten-hundred yen and grabbed the necessary amount of leek, placing them in the basket that Hitsugaya had been carrying. "Now we're all happy right?" he said quickly, grabbing Hitsugaya by the elbow and pulling him away.

After a moment of silent walking, Hitsugaya finally spoke.

"You know, Kurosaki," he snapped, "I had no need for you to interrupt. I'm not helpless. I could have handled that on my own."

"Hey, you remembered me!" the strawberry exclaimed, "But, please, call me Ichigo."

"That's not the point, Kurosaki," snapped the petite heir to the daimyo, ignoring the orange-haired teen completely. "The point is, I don't need protection from someone like you."

"Yeah, but still," Ichigo muttered lamely, "Anyway, uh, are you about to head home?"

"Yes, and what of it?"

"Want me to walk you back?"

Silence.

"No, thank you," Hitsugaya answered curtly, "I'm not so helpless and naive as so that I'll need a commoner to escort me home. I'll walk by myself."

"It's getting dark, though," Ichigo persisted, "I'd feel bad if I let you walk home alone." There was a pause before he hastily added, "Because, you know, I think it'd be a disservice to the daimyo if I let his grandson go all the way home alone at a time like this."

"Then consider such a disservice done," the smaller boy replied coldly, "I have no need for you to accompany back to the manor as if I have yet to learn to walk."

"That's not what I meant," the strawberry protested, beginning to get frustrated with the boy's excessively prideful nature, "C'mon, just this once, Toshiro."

"You will address me by _Hitsugaya-san_, not _Toshiro_," he answered.

"I don't do that kind of thing! I'm not wound as tightly as you nobles."

"Then you should consider becoming like that."

"Yes or no, Toshiro?" Ichigo demanded finally, "May I _please_ have the 'grand honor' or whatever of walking you home, your highness?" he inquired in a sarcastic tone.

"You are too bold, Kurosaki," Hitsugaya muttered, his jade eyes swiveling upwards to look at the orange-haired teen walking beside him. "And incredibly annoying as well. If it makes you happy, then fine. Walk me home. But don't expect any reward from it."

"Hey, hey, call me Ichigo, not by my last name."

"I will do no such thing until you address me as Hitsugaya-san."

"Fine, then you can forget it, 'cause there's no way in hell I'm calling you that."

"Like I said, Kurosaki, you are too bold. Your words are common and coarse."

"So what?" Ichigo shot back as he walked alongside the pretty white-haired heir, "That's just how I talk. Do all of you nobles think of yourselves better than the average citizens, just because we might not be as rich as you?"

"That was what I was raised to believe, Kurosaki," was the curt reply.

There was a long silence.

"We're nearing the manor," Hitsugaya finally spoke, breaking the silence. "My grandfather would be furious if he saw me with you. Turn around and go your own way now."

"Toshiro…"

"That's how it is, Kurosaki. Thank you for escorting me, although it was entirely unneeded and uncalled for. But you must remember that you are a commoner and I am not. We can't mix, Kurosaki. It's simply not acceptable by my grandfather's terms. That's the way things are, and how they will always be."

"Oh, come on, Toshiro, what're you being so stuffy?"

"You know why, Kurosaki. You and I are too different. I would not like to see you again, if it's possible."

"You mean, your grandfather doesn't want you to see me again," Ichigo retorted, "Honestly, if being a noble means doing what someone else tells you to all the time, and separating yourself from everyone else, then I am fucking thankful I'm not one of you."

There was a silence, and with dismay, Ichigo noted that Hitsugaya seemed hurt.

"Not all of us are like that, Kurosaki," he hissed venomously, his eyes flashing furiously, "Never come near me _ever_ again, do you understand?" Without another word, he turned tail and disappeared into the manor gates.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Aww, Hitsugaya's pissed off at tactless ol' Ichigo. Boohoo. Not to worry, our strawberry will win the little ice prince over eventually. Anyway, here we go with chapter three, and be warned: a twist will soon occur.

Ichigo had to admit he'd been tactless.

He also had to admit that his foul language was entirely uncalled for and unnecessary. Not only that, but he knew that he had been quite rude, and as much as he wanted to just forget about the whole matter and leave it behind, he found that he simply could not.

That would explain why he had returned to the Yamamoto manor the very next day, a bouquet of flowers in hand, ready to apologize.

"The hell did I need the flowers for?" he muttered to himself grumpily, "Why am I even bothering to apologize? _He's _the one with the bad temper…" Nonetheless, though, he raised his fist and knocked on the gate.

Silence.

The gate's door opened the smallest crack, revealing a gatekeeper.

"What is your business here?"

"Uh, I'm an acquaintance of the daimyo's grandson," Ichgio answered, "I need to talk to him real quick. I'll be fast, I promise."

"No visitors are allowed to set foot on the manor's grounds without the daimyo's permission," the gatekeeper sniffed, "Come back after you've established an appointment, sir."

"I don't care!" Ichigo snapped, "I want to see Toshiro and I want to see him _now_!"

"Listen, sir, don't make me call for the guards-"

"What's going on here?"

A third voice interjected into the mix of voices, and Ichigo recognized it instantly.

"Toshiro!"

"Excuse me, young master, but this commoner boy claims he knows you," the gatekeeper explained, "He wishes to speak with you."

"Very well, then he will have his audience."

"But, sir! If your grandfather finds out-"

"He won't. Now go about your own business, I will take care of this matter."

"Y-Yes, sir," the gatekeeper muttered before scurrying off.

Ichigo almost wished the gatekeeper was still around. It might have made the following silence a little less awkward.

"Well?" Hitsugaya demanded, crossing his arms over his chest, "What is it, Kurosaki? What do you want from me now?"

"Nothing really," the orange-haired teen admitted, rather abashed, "I…Well, you know. I just came here to apologize for the way I was talking to you yesterday. I was pretty rude, I'll admit. So sorry about that. Hope you're not angry with me."

"I don't dwell on such trivial matters, Kurosaki. I was angry with you, but I've let it go by now."

"Great!" Ichigo grinned, "I mean, uh…good. Yeah. Thanks. And, uh, these are for you." He thrust the flowers into the white-haired boy's arms, slightly startling him.

"Kurosaki, what is the meaning of this?" Hitsugaya demanded, looking at the flowers in his arms, contempt clearly visible in his cold emerald eyes. "Do you mean to gain my favor with this offering?"

"You don't like them, then?"

"I never said that."

"So you do?"

"I never said that, either."

"Well, uh, since that's over with, I guess I'll be on my way now," Ichigo muttered, turning to leave. "I mean, I'm sure you're busy and everything. I don't really want to interrupt with your work and all that. See you around, I guess," he finished, turning to leave.

"Wait a moment, Kurosaki."

"Yeah?"

"Have you had dinner yet?"

"Uh, no, I haven't."

There was a pause before Hitsugaya finally spoke again. "Well, come in, then."

"Huh?"

"You heard me. I'm asking you to come in, Kurosaki," he answered, pulling the gate open. "I imagine you're hungry, and since you had the decency to apologize to me, it's only acceptable that I thank you for coming all the way here."

"A-Are you sure about that?" Ichigo spluttered, somewhat dumbfounded. He hadn't been expecting this in the slightest. "I mean, won't your grandfather get mad?"

"He's asleep. What he won't know won't hurt him," was the petite noble's terse reply. "Are you going to come in or not? If you don't want to, then I'm not going to stand here all day waiting for you to make up your mind, you know."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," the strawberry muttered, hurriedly, making his way through the gates before the white-haired boy closed them.

"Follow me," he instructed curtly, "And don't speak unless spoken to."

Nodding, Ichigo silently followed Hitsugaya as they moved through the garden, heading towards the front door of the manor, which was opened with relative ease.

He then found himself back inside the manor, which looked familiar from the medical visit they had paid the daimyo. Before long, they arrived at the kitchen in which they had first met, and Hitsugaya ushered him in and closed the door behind them.

"What kinds of things do you like to eat, Kurosaki?"

"Whatever," Ichigo shrugged, "Nothing really special, I guess."

"Then I suppose I'll feed you what I've already made," Hitsugaya answered as if speaking to a small child, thrusting a bowl of soup towards the older teen.

"Thanks, I guess," Ichigo muttered a little awkwardly, slowly taking a sip as Hitsugaya watched on. It was a little uncomfortable, having those icy emerald eyes staring expectantly at him.

"Well?"

"It's good," the strawberry answered hastily, "It's very good." And he was telling the truth. After all, he saw no reason to lie to this boy.

"So, what's it like?" Hitsugaya inquired, kneeling on the floor next to Ichigo, "What's it like, being a doctor?"

"It's alright, I guess," Ichigo chuckled, "It gets a little old sometimes, but hey. Helping sick people is always good, isn't it? I think that's really the best part about it. Helping people."

"It must be wonderful to do whatever you choose to with your own life."

"Sorry, Toshiro."

"_Hitsugaya-san._"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. If you won't call me 'Ichigo,' then there's no way in hell I'm calling you by anything else other than your given name."

"Shut up, Kurosaki."

"You see, that's exactly what I mean."

There was a long pause, and Ichigo looked up at Hitsugaya. The boy looked preoccupied, he noted, something seemed to be bothering him. And whatever it was, it was definitely not good. He could tell just by looking at his eyes.

"What are you looking at, Kurosaki?"

"Eh, nothing," the strawberry muttered, "You're just…"

"Yes?"

"Never mind."

"You began your sentence," Hitsugaya insisted, "And I expect you to finish it."

"It's nothing!" Ichigo retorted.

"If it's nothing, then spit it out."

"Fine!" the orange-haired teen snapped, "I just think you're pretty, that's all.'

Silence.

"Kurosaki, you…"

"I know, I know," the strawberry muttered, "You're a noble and I'm just a doctor's son. We don't mix and I shouldn't be talking to you like that. I get it, okay?" He stood up, turning away from the confused-looking Hitsugaya. "Thanks for the meal, but I really think I should be going now."

"Kurosaki, wait-"

"It's like you said, Toshiro. We shouldn't see each other again."

"What are you talking about? I don't understand you."

"What are _you_ talking about? You're the one who always says these things to me," Ichigo answered, turning back around to look at the white-haired boy, "There's no point in me elaborating, is there?"

"Kurosaki, please, stay here," the diminutive boy implored in a voice that was almost pleading, "I-I need you here. I can't keep things to myself for very long, you know."

"Is that what you're looking so worried about?"

"Perhaps."

With a sigh, the strawberry slowly moved back to Hitsugaya's side, plopping down on the floor next to him with a small smile. "Then don't keep it bottled in, Toshiro. Tell me about it, if that's what you want."

There was a pause before Hitsugaya finally muttered, "My grandfather has arranged a marriage for me, Kurosaki."

"Wh-What!?"

"I don't like it, either."

"That's ridiculous!" Ichigo shouted angrily, "Why the hell should _he_ get to pick who you marry and who you don't!? This is someone you'll have to spend the rest of your life with. What if he turns out to be a total dickhead!? Who's the bastard, Toshiro!?"

"I've never met him before."

"That's bullshit! You should at least be able to know who they are before someone tries to act all high and mighty and try marrying you off to someone else!"

"He's a prince, Kurosaki," Hitsugaya murmured, "An orphan, like me, adopted by the emperor whose empress was unable to bear their own children. His name is Kusaka Sojiro, and that's really all I know about him. He's seen me before, though, I don't know when or why – apparently he's taken a liking to me."

"A prince?"

"Yes. Apparently, my grandfather thinks it wise for me to marry someone of such importance. It's to secure my future, he says, but I don't know if he truly cares about me, or rather, his _own_ future, not that he has much left."

"I'm sorry, Toshiro. I really am," Ichigo muttered, reaching out to gently touch the boy's delicate face. "If there was something, anything I could do, believe me, I'd do it."

Hitsugaya recoiled slightly from Ichigo's touch, seeming to be a little startled. He relaxed though, upon realizing the strawberry wasn't about to smack him across the face or something of the sort.

And then, without thinking, Ichigo did something very, very, very stupid.

Closing the gap between them, he pressed his lips against those of the white-haired boy's, moving his hands to rest on the lithe hips belonging to the recipient of the said actions.

Hitsugaya emitted a startled yelp, and fell backwards, Ichigo toppling down with him. "S-Sorry," the strawberry panted, "I…I don't know what I was thinking…"

"What are you talking about, Kurosaki?" Hitsugaya answered quietly, "D…Don't stop. I…I liked that."

Ichigo stared at him for a brief moment of disbelief. He was sure his ears weren't deceiving him though, so he more than happily complied, swooping back down upon the boy, their lips reconnecting shortly after as if by magnetic force.

With a strangled gasp, the smaller boy's hands shot outwards to take hold of Ichigo's orange locks, clinging to them as if his life depended on it. And this, Ichigo noted smugly, was deepening their rather messy, but exhilarating kiss.

Seeming to be moving on their own, Ichigo found his hands grasping clumsily at the hem of Hitsugaya's kimono, feeling the rather boorish but undeniable want to see the rest of the small and terribly attractive body writhing underneath him. And Hitsugaya did nothing to stop him.

Oh, Ichigo swore, he had never felt anything like this in his life.

Too bad it was cut short.

By the door opening and the daimyo, Yamamoto himself walking straight into the room.

* * *

Author's Note: Aww, boohoo, you thought that was going to be a lemon, didn't you? Sorry for getting your hopes up. Haha.


End file.
